The NHL Girl

I turned 21 this week.

This has been a significant number in my life, not because it is the legal drinking age in Amercia, but because of the the legendary player who the number 21 belonged to: Peter Forsberg.

Although his short lived return to the NHL last season was a huge let down…I will forever love Peter Forsberg. I once re-named my pony Foppa in honor of the swift skating Swede.

I’ll even tell you a secret about myself…I used to HATE hockey. I hated hockey until middle school when my older brother Eric, sat me down in front of the TV during an Avalanche game, and explained the rules to me.

Suddenly, I was obsessed with the sport. Following hockey became my new hobby. In June of 2001 I visited Denver with my Girl Scout troupe (that’s embarrassing to admit) the night the Avalanche beat the New Jersey Devils 3-1 in game seven to win the Stanley Cup. I missed the game because I was forced to go shopping at the mall with the girls in my troupe. I begged my leader to let me stay at the hotel so I could watch the game on TV, but I ended up just watching the highlights that night…and listening to Denver celebrate its victory all night long.

Not to bore you with my nistalgia…but Peter Forsberg was one of the main reasons I loved the Avalanche. He was just SO good at hockey, and so humble. It’s sad to see him now. He was born to play hockey…but injury keeps plaguing him.

Whenever the Avs were behind in a game, each time Foppa stepped onto the ice–you just knew anything could happen. It was like the puck was an extension of his person–he could coax it around the defense, skate in behind the net, and then somehow he could flick the puck over the goalie’s shoulder from an impossible angle. Number 21 was the greatest player in the world.

I hope that while I am 21 he will return to the league for another brief stint– even if he will never play as good as he once did.